


We Work In the Dark to Serve Espresso

by volpe



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volpe/pseuds/volpe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair, a young Starbucks employee, tries to win the affections of Malik, a young coffee shop regular. Turn out, it's really fucking difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Work in the Dark to Serve Espresso

“This is fucking ridiculous. I should be at a resort. Like, Turks and Caicos or something.” It was five-thirty on a Monday morning and Altair was weakly sweeping behind the counter. It wasn’t even sweeping anymore; he was much too tired to be participating in any physical exertion, let alone stand at a register and take orders and plaster on a giant grin for customers. He leaned the broom against the counter and noticed a resemblance between it and his coworker; they both didn’t do shit.

  
“Ah, well, too bad. Someone has to open.” His coworker, Ezio, might as well have been twiddling his thumbs, but instead he was tying his hair back into a hairnet. Altair wondered how he could stand having long hair like that, and then wondered how Ezio got away with sitting on his ass his entire shift.

  
“Have you been to Turks and Caicos?” Ezio asked.

  
“No. Why, have you?”

  
“Yeah, a few times.” Altair didn’t let him see him roll his eyes. Allowing himself to be jealous of the kid with a family that was loaded as fuck was outright ridiculous. For Christ’s sake, the guy drove some sixty-thousand-dollar Audi. You don’t get that money from working part-time at Starbucks. You don’t get that money from working part time anywhere. Altair was completely dismayed whenever he had to work with him.

  
“Attending college usually restricts those types of opportunities.”

  
“I guess.” Before Ezio could say anything else, thank God, someone entered the shop and approached the counter: fresh out of college, dark-haired, and unusually handsome for a guy that’s getting coffee at six. Altair looked to Ezio, visually coaxing him to the register, but he wouldn’t budge. He offered a look that said, “Hey, go and take of him. If you know what I mean.” Ever since Ezio somehow was informed of Altair’s homosexuality, he hasn’t been able to stop pointing out cute coffee shop goers to him. It was frustrating, yes, but Altair found Ezio’s own reputation—not being able to keep it in his pants—to be quite interesting itself.

  
“Hi, welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you?” Altair recited, pressing his fingers against the counter.

  
“I’ll have a large caffé latte with nonfat milk.”

  
“That’ll be it?”

  
“Yep.” He reached into his leather messenger bag for his wallet. Altair saw that there were folders spilling with papers lodged inside the bag, but no textbooks. Definitely fresh out of college.

  
“Name?”

  
“Malik.” It was simple enough to scribble on the cup. He paid for his latte and waited at a freshly-scrubbed table. Ezio quickly made the drink and placed it on the counter. For a particularly infuriating guy, Altair could admit that Ezio did have some barista skill. Malik grabbed it and studied for half a second. Altair was given a strange half-confused, half-discontented look from Malik, and then he went on his way. Uh, okay. He didn’t know why he just got that look but whatever.

  
“By the way, where you from?” Ezio asked. No response. “Come on, I know you’re not from around here.”

  
“I’m Arabic, if the name didn’t insinuate it enough.”

  
“I’ve actually never taken the time to look at your nametag, so…” Ezio leaned to glance at the tag pinned to Altair’s black collared polo. “Ah, alt-heir.” He couldn’t say he didn’t expect to make the correction. It always happened.

  
“Alt-aye-eer.”

  
“That’s definitely not spelled how it sounds.”

  
“No shit. That’s how a bunch of Arabic names are.” Wait, hold on. Malik… “Oh, fuck.”

  
“What?”

  
He wrote ‘Malick’ on the damn cup.


	2. We Tried to Serve Espresso

Ezio exploded into laughter.

“I would have spelled it the same way, but it’s just funny because it happened to you.”

“I knew how to write it too! Damn it, I just… blanked out for a second,” Altair beat his fist into the counter, and then slumped, defeated, onto the surface behind the register.

“At least he’ll remember you.” Altair could only hope so. 

On Wednesday, Malik came in again. Once he stepped through the threshold of the coffee shop, Altair could feel his confidence rising, and hoped for a better outcome than the other day. Malik was dressed in tan work boots, thick jeans, and a grey raincoat. As he approached the register, Ezio stepped back and pretended to be occupied with taking out the trash.

“I promise I’ll spell your name right this time,” Altair smiled.

“Will you?” Malik replied with a smirk as he reached for his wallet. God, his smile’s hot. Don’t fuck this up.

“Another latte with nonfat milk?”

“Yes please.” As Altair readied the cup, he motioned for Ezio to go into the back room. He didn’t want that Italian fuck to mess anything up. And of course he didn’t take the trash with him. Altair made Malik’s drink this time.

“So, are you in college?” Altair asked.

“No, actually, I graduated last semester.”

“What’s your major?”

“I majored in Environmental Science. No, I’m not a hippie—this is a qualification I had to present to my family when I declared my major.”

“No need for qualifications. I think that’s interesting.”

“Thanks. I work for the local organization that’s in charge of the conservation area a few miles west of here.”

“That’s great,” Altair paused as an older couple walked in the door, interrupting their dialogue. Fucking cockblockers, they look like my parents. Figures. Malik noticed them as well; he turned to sneak a glance at the new presence. “Listen, I’d love to talk more, but it looks like the rush is coming in. How about I give you my number and we can figure something out.” Malik let out a soft chuckle.

“Sure.” Hell yes. Altair scribbled his number on the cup and handed Malik his latte. 

“Have a good one.”

“You too.” Altair took the orders of the older couple that was next in line, and they promptly left. Ezio came out of the back room only after the couple had left, to ensure that he had shirked all his damn responsibilities.

“You sucked his dick yet?”

“Fuck you.”

“What happened though, I’m serious.”

“I gave him my number.” Ezio nodded in approval. He turned around to address the trashcan situation, but he stopped himself in order to laugh at some unsaid joke.

“Wouldn’t it have been funny if you gave him the wrong number? Like how you spelled his name wrong?” Ezio snickered. Altair froze, only just recalling what he had written on the damn cup. “That would have been funny, right? Altair?”

“GOD DAMN IT!” And the trashcan’s contents were all over the floor.


	3. Espresso Can Be Surprisingly Hard to Serve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altair is still waiting for Malik to show up... Even after he gave him his mom's phone number instead of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This installment is really short but I realized that I couldn't just abandon this story, I love it too much. Anyway, I want to keep going and finish it and now that I'm on winter break I just might have the time to do that before I go back to college. Keep checking in for updates! Thank you all for sticking with this cracky, OOC fic. :)

Malik didn’t come in for the rest of the week. 

Altair knew, that once he had fucked up by giving Malik his mother’s phone number--his mother, of all people!--it was over. It was probably because he was reminded of his parents when those old fucks walked in while he was taking Malik’s order. Ugh.

“Listen, if some guy gave me his number and it was the wrong number, I’d assume that he’s uninterested and just can’t bring himself to say no,” Altair explained the situation as he wiped down the counter with a damp rag.

“You were the one that suggested you give him your number! How does that mean that you’re uninterested?” Ezio exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. He was seated on the opposite counter, near the espresso machine. “He has to know that it was a mistake. Who would give someone their mom’s number? Even if they were uninterested?”

“He didn’t come in after Wednesday. It’s Sunday, Ezio, come on. Wouldn’t he have come in by now?”

“Holy shit, could you try being patient? You sound like my little sister when she talks about boys.”

“Shut up. Move, so I can wipe this down.” Ezio hopped off the counter and Altair cleaned the countertop swiftly. “Please, make yourself useful and make sure there’s enough pre-packed food in the display?”

“Sure, lover boy,” Ezio muttered teasingly, and was met with a glare from Altair. “Seriously though, I’m sure there won’t be any hard feelings. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Unless your mom is weird about that kind of stuff.”

Altair dearly hoped so.


	4. I Don't Even Like Espresso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes full circle.

“So you don’t watch anything? Like no TV, movies, Netflix?”

 

“I don’t really have time for that type of stuff,” Altair shrugged. He figured it would be a matter of time before his lack of information on popular culture was criticized by Ezio. His interests didn’t really include sedentary activities--sitting in front of the couch was 

 

“Han shot first? Snape kills Dumbledore? Not one Stanley Kubrick movie?”

 

“Harry Potter is a book. I can still read. I just don’t watch TV or movies.”

 

“Yeah, I can read too, but I still watch films like a normal human being.”

 

Altair rolled his eyes. They had just opened for Monday morning, and a few people were starting to trickle in to get their coffee before going to work. Every time someone walked in, he glanced to the door hoping it would be Malik. He wanted to make things right, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to face him ever again due to the sheer embarrassment. Altair was sure Malik would never step foot into the shop ever again, probably due to the same embarrassing reasons as well, but he still clung to a little bit of hope.

 

“Nonfat grande vanilla latte!” Ezio called out as he placed a finished order on the pick-up counter. Altair noticed that his long brown hair wasn’t tied back like it usually was.

 

“Hey, tie up your hair,” he said to him.

 

“I didn’t find any ties this morning.”

 

“Use a rubber band or something,” Altair instructed. Ezio disappeared into the back room to look for one. 

 

Then Malik walked in.

 

Altair caught him walking inside in the corner of his eye, but he nonchalantly pretended to fiddle with the register as if he didn’t notice. It was a stupid thing to do, but the elephant in the room was mortifying. He didn’t want to say anything, but the fact that he gave Malik his mother’s phone number had to be brought up at one point. As he approached the counter, Altair’s heart rate climbed and his thoughts raced. Jesus Christ, could he not fuck up this interaction for once?

 

“Good morning,” Altair greeted Malik and flashed a smile.

 

“Morning,” Malik replied.

 

“Nonfat latte?” 

 

“Of course. With how many people come into this store, I’m surprised that you remember my order.”

 

It’s not hard to remember someone who’s hot as hell.

 

“We get a lot of regulars in here,” Altair noted, scribbling Malik’s name on the cup. “It’s easy to memorize by now.”

 

“Having trouble memorizing your phone number?”

 

Oh my God.

 

“I’m just kidding,” Malik laughed. Altair chuckled nervously. “Just make sure this time it’s the right one.”

 

“Yeah,” Altair let the corners of his mouth curl up, into some forced smile, “yeah, of course, I’ll do that right now.” He grabbed the pen again and put all his focus into writing his number on Malik’s cup. He shouldn’t have to put this effort into writing something, but apparently since he couldn’t fucking do it the first time, he’ll have to put a humiliatingly huge amount of concentration into it. Dumb fuck.

 

“I would have never thought that I would meet someone’s mom before I met them, I mean, at least officially.”

 

“I’m really sorry. Also, I apologize for her, and whatever she might have said.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. She’s a nice woman.” Malik handed Altair his card to pay. Altair didn’t probe any further into the conversation between Malik and his mom, or what conversation they might have had; he figured he would be better off without knowledge of it.

 

Altair was going to take the cup and pour the drink himself after he swiped Malik’s card, but instead Ezio whisked by behind him and took the cup. 

 

“I’ll do that,” Ezio said, with a knowing look on his face. Did Ezio just become his wingman?

 

“Uh, how was your weekend?” Altair asked as he returned the card. Okay, decent start, please have a good answer.

 

“It was fine. Relaxing. I saw the new Star Wars movie. Have you seen it?” Malik asked.

 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The universe just keeps reminding Altair that he's pop-culture-deficient. Anyway, there will probably be a couple more chapters until I write a happy ending. Thanks for reading!


End file.
